Page 95 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I follow closely behind, glancing around us to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary before stepping inside the building.

We make our way down a dimly lit hallway until it opens up to what looks like a community center room. It’s not exactly what I expected, but it’s clean enough. A colorful mural decorates the back wall, and there’s some various-sized tables scattered throughout. In the center, a circle of chairs is arranged around a rug, most of them already occupied with silent bodies. Emerald hesitates a bit, until a woman with a clipboard stands as she waves us over. “Welcome! Please, come join us,” she says, gesturing to two empty seats.

Together, we move toward them, and I cast a glance at the other people already sitting there. A boy in a hood, slouched deep into the foldable chair, a girl with colorful streaks of blue in her otherwise blond hair, an older woman who looks like she’s come here straight from work, and various other people. There’s around twenty people in total.Who knew that so many people could have this sort of problem? None of them seem particularly thrilled to be here. At least Emerald is in good company.

“I’m not dressed right for this,” she blurts out as she spins on her heel.

I block her way. “No shit. Couldn’t you have worn something a little less conspicuous?” She’s in yet another one of her sparkly gold dresses, advertising to the world exactly what it is that she steals.

She glowers at me, but slowly, she turns back around.

I wait until she sits, and then I take my seat as well. The woman with the clipboard in her lap looks again at Emerald and me. “You must be Emerald?”

Emerald gives the tiniest nod.

“We’re glad to have you. I’ll be leading the session today. We’re just waiting for one more person. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack?” The woman looks tired, but her welcome doesn’t seem disingenuous. I shake my head at the same time Emerald does.

My eyes flick to the clock on the wall before settling back on Emerald. Her body is stiff even as she relaxes into the chair.

When the last person rushes in right on time, we finally make a start. “I’d like to welcome everyone to today’s meeting. I’m Amanda,” she says, putting a hand on her chest. “Let’s start with going around the circle and introducing ourselves and telling us a little about you. I’ll go first.” She puts her clipboard on the chair behind her and stands. “As I said, I’m Amanda. I’ve been, I guess you can say, ‘clean’ from shoplifting for seven years now, and it’s all thanks to these meetings and therapy.” She passes a look over the group. “I know a lot of you here may wonder how a group can help you, and you may be a bit skeptical about all of this. I was in your shoes once upon a time, and I’m here to tell you it’s possible to free yourself from your compulsion if you’re willing to do the work. Being here is the first step.”

I glance over at Emerald just in time to see a flicker of relief on her face. With a life as destructive as mine tends to be, it’s nice to actually help someone for once. Doing this for Emerald almost feels as if it counters just a little of the bad I’ve done. I know it’ll take a lot more than accompanying her to these meetings to undo all the lies I’ve told her since meeting her—yeah, because I’m starting to realize that maybe I could have been atinybit more truthful about certain things—but it’s something.

The guy sitting next to Amanda stands and lifts his hand in a small wave. “I’m Reuben,” he starts. “I, uh, I’ve had a problem with stealing since I was a teenager. It’s to the point that it’s taking over my whole life.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t keep a job, my wife is divorcing me, and my kids won’t talk to me while I’m like this. So, this is me taking steps in getting help. That’s why I’m here.”

Low applause fills the space as he sits, and Amanda smiles at him. “We’re glad you’re here, Reuben. You should be proud of yourself for making the effort to come today.”

Next is blue streaks Katarina, followed by Trudie, and then Julian. Each of them with their own reasons for shoplifting. Some because it’s fun and some because it’s the easiest way to get what they need. Through each story, I watch her. How she reacts with her expressions.

Each person takes turns to introduce themselves, and I notice Emerald shifting and twitching as the circle works its way closer to her. Because of where I’m sitting, I’ll have to speak before Emerald.

I can feel her eyes on me when it’s my turn to stand. I clasp my hands together in front of me as I clear my voice. “I’m Saint,” I start. “And I think I may have come to the wrong meeting. I thought this was for sex addicts.”

Amanda blinks at me with wide eyes. “Oh my,” she says with a hand on her chest. “I’m sorry, but?—”

“Oh my God,” Emerald hisses, grabbing my hand and pulling me down before she stands to her feet. “There’s nothing wrong with him other than being a jackass. He’s with me.” She runs a slightly shaking hand through her shiny locks. “I’m Emerald. My stealing habit started after my dad died a few years ago. I don’t want to ruin whatever future I could have, so...I’m here to hopefully work on learning how to stop.” Her voice is soft, unsure, but she talks about why she does it. About the high and sense of control that it makes her feel in her chaotic life. About how the thought of stopping scares her. About how the prospect of not being able to afford a home for the kids terrifies her. They’re admissions that nearly knock me from my chair because of the very fact that she’s opening up. But I remain a sturdy pillar for her to lean against if need be, my hand squeezing hers gently.

As she talks, Amanda’s eyes briefly flick to where Emerald keeps clicking the clasp of her purse open and shut.

When she’s finished, she finally gives a small smile. The others match her smile, and for the first time since we entered the building, that guard she’s had up slips. She’s among people who get it. Who understand to some extent.

“What’s the most expensive thing you’ve taken?” the blond girl asks, eyeing up her gold dress.

“I stole this Dior dress recently, although I’m usually too ashamed to even consider wearing it.” Emerald gestures down at her dress as she tucks a strand of inky hair behind her ear.

“Bose headphones for me,” the hoodie teen offers.

“Prada bag,” the older woman says. “It’s what got me caught.”

Emerald elbows me when she takes her seat, shooting me a glare over my previous sex addict line, even though amusement twinkles in her eyes.

I chuckle to myself. At least she looks more relaxed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Amanda says. Then she gestures at Saint. “Do you want to share your story?”

“Um, I might pass today, if that’s okay.”

Amanda smiles. “Sure. No pressure. Maybe next time.”

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